


face all your fears

by spilled_notes



Series: Utterances [3]
Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8140687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilled_notes/pseuds/spilled_notes
Summary: For the prompt 'things you said with too many miles between us'.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended listening: One Thing - Runrig (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=znAuGKru-wM&spfreload=10)

Dear Serena,

You probably don’t want to hear from me. You might not even open this, might throw it away as soon as you see my handwriting – and I wouldn’t blame you. But I had to try. You know I find it hard to open up. I couldn’t do it face to face, couldn’t find the courage, so I’m trying now.

I’m sorry. People assume that if you’re a soldier you must be brave, but I’m not – not outside of theatre.

I don’t want to make excuses, I’m just trying to explain.

You said I’d terrified the life out of you. I’m pretty terrified too. I feel so much for you, Serena. And I could cope with it when I thought it was unrequited, when I thought you just wanted to be friends. But when you said that you love me I panicked. I’m shit at relationships. I’m so scared that I’ll hurt you, and I couldn’t bear to do that. And now I’ve hurt you anyway, and I’m so sorry.

I’m a coward. I run away from the things that scare me – not bullets or IEDs but emotions, relationships. And I made it all about you because then I could justify it to myself, pretend I wasn’t really running away just giving you space. I didn’t listen to what you wanted because all I could think about was the mess I would make of things.

I’ve almost called you so many times, because I miss you. The point of running away was to stop thinking about you but I can’t.

I love you, Serena. I’m in love with you. (Even writing it scares me.) That’s why I came here. I’ve spent the entire time wishing I hadn’t, wishing I’d just told you. You’re so much braver than me. You face your fears and move past them, I just hide from mine. I want to change, but I don’t know if I can. Sometimes when I’m with you I think maybe I could, and then other times I’m gripped with this stupid, ridiculous terror.

I have no right to ask anything of you, I know. But can you forgive me for hurting you, forgive my cowardice? I don’t expect anything else, don’t even really expect that, to be honest. It’s more than I deserve. If you want I won’t come back. You’ll never have to see me again.

I would like a chance to make it right, if there’s anything I can do, but I understand if that isn’t what you want.

I’m sorry.

Love Bernie xxx

*          *          *

Serena’s stomach swoops when she sees the familiar scrawl. She’s meant to be starting her ward round but instead sinks into her chair, picks up the envelope with shaky hands and stares at it, unsure whether she most wants to rip it open or rip it up.

Every time she thinks of Bernie (which is a lot, too much, all the bloody time) she feels a mixture of anger, hurt, confusion. And under it all love, which just makes it worse.

Some days she avoids their office, others she doesn’t want to leave it at all.

One hand strays to her collarbone, fingers toying with her necklace.

 _I have to know,_ she thinks.

Heart pounding she slowly peels the envelope open, unfolds the paper inside.

*

When the worst of the tears have passed and she thinks her voice will be almost normal, Serena calls Hanssen.

And then she calls Kiev, steady surgeon’s fingers wavering over the buttons. Nervously fiddles with her necklace while she waits for Bernie to be found.

‘Serena?’ she says warily, disbelieving.

The tears start again, but Serena feels an overwhelming rush of calm and contentment and rightness at the sound of her voice.

‘If you dare to even _think_ about not coming back,’ she begins, and hears Bernie let out a shaky breath of relief. ‘You honestly think I could want you gone from my life?’

‘Well, you do tend to hold grudges.’

‘It seems that doesn’t apply to everyone. Besides, I don’t think you can shoulder all the blame for this, much as I know you like to do that. We are-’ her breath hitches. ‘We are equals, after all, as you keep delighting in reminding me.’

‘Serena, what are you talking about?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You have nothing to apologise for,’ Bernie protests, and Serena can imagine her puzzled expression.

‘Yes, I do. I should have seen how you were feeling. I-’ she sighs. ‘I should have realised, and I shouldn’t have told you.’

‘How could you know when I didn’t say anything?’

‘Good old British reserve maybe isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Bernie says quietly.

‘Well, now we’ve established that we’re both sorry, what are we going to do?’

‘What?’

‘I love you,’ Serena says slowly, clearly. ‘And you love me. So what are we going to do?’

Bernie says nothing.

‘Bernie?’

‘I’m scared, Serena,’ she admits.

‘I know. And it’s alright. Will you let me try and help you be less scared?’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know. I think talking’s probably a good start though, hm? Certainly better than running away from me, anyway.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Bernie repeats.

‘Enough,’ Serena says firmly. ‘Enough apologising. We’ve both made mistakes, now we can put them right.’

‘Ok,’ Bernie says. Serena hears her take a deep breath. ‘Ok. God, I miss you.’

‘I miss you too. Although the office is rather tidier without you,’ Serena teases, drawing a laugh from Bernie. ‘I could come and visit?’ she suggests tentatively, not wanting to push.

‘How about I meet you half way?

*          *          *

An hour until Serena’s flight lands.

Bernie is half way down her cup of coffee before she realises that, jittery as she is with nerves and excitement and fear, caffeine probably wasn’t a good idea.

She finishes it anyway. Even airport coffee is good in Vienna, and besides it gives her fidgety hands something to grasp.

Half an hour to go.

She’s practically shredded the cardboard collar from her cup. Her leg is bouncing.

 _I can’t do this,_ she thinks, panic rising in her. _I don’t know what to say to her._

Her breath is coming faster now, pulse racing. The rush of blood in her ears blocks out the bustle of the airport.

Suddenly she jumps up, dashes to the bathroom, locks herself in a cubicle and sits down. She grips the edge of her coat, focuses on the tension in her hand. Closes her eyes and tries to steady her breathing.

‘Come on, soldier,’ she mutters.

Her scrap of hard-won control wobbles when, echoing off the tiles, the flight from Heathrow is announced over the tannoy.

With a deep breath Bernie unlocks the door, splashes her face with water and stares at herself in the mirror.

 _I can do this,_ she thinks firmly, willing herself to believe it.

*

Bernie stands stiffly in arrivals, bag slung over her shoulder, hands jammed into her pockets, focusing on the babble of noise around her to try and stay calm. Her eyes lock onto Serena as soon as she appears, but she can’t move.

It’s down to Serena to wheel her small case across the room, forcing herself to walk slowly when what she really wants to do is run into Bernie’s arms.

She stops in front of her, stares at her, waiting. Sees the tears in Bernie’s eyes, matching her own.

‘You must be Berenice Wolfe,’ she says unsteadily.

‘Serena,’ Bernie breathes.

And then she reaches out and touches Serena’s arm, almost as if she’s checking she’s really there.

Serena steps closer, wraps her arms around her, buries her face in Bernie’s shoulder. After a moment Bernie softens and does the same.

‘I’m an idiot,’ Bernie murmurs, voice muffled by Serena’s hair.

‘Yes,’ Serena says dryly, earning her something between a laugh and a sob.

‘But I’m your idiot.’

They draw apart a little, still holding each other close. Serena is smiling – properly, broadly, infectiously.

‘Yes, you are.’


End file.
